


Come and Save Me Tonight

by Zetal (Rodinia)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon body cutting (that may be different from true canon), M/M, Mistaken for Wincest, Star Wars References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 21:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2323091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rodinia/pseuds/Zetal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel blew himself away to give the Winchesters a chance to rescue their brother, and to avoid having to see his former boss dressed just like his best friend.  When he reappears, he calls the Winchester he thinks he has the best chance of still knowing for help with recovery.  Star Wars and Aerosmith and poorly-written Latin books help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blown Away

Aerosmith started blaring out of Sam’s jacket, _“You’re my angel, come and save me tonight.”_ Apparently Dean had gotten hold of Sam’s phone at some point recently. Sam checked the caller ID. “Funny, Dean.” Then it hit him – Castiel was supposed to be dead, blown away for a suicide mission he believed would fail. Maybe he’d survived, somehow… or another angel had gotten hold of the phone. He picked up. “Who is this?”

“Sam?” Castiel’s normally gravelly voice sounded like someone had scrubbed his throat with glass, but even so, there was a warmth to it. “This is Castiel.”

Trap or not, Sam was ready to go get the angel. “Cas! Damn, it’s good to hear your voice. Where are you?” He grabbed the keys to the Impala.

“No.” Cas’s breathing sounded ragged, too. “Is someone at Bobby’s?”

“I’m there, but Cas, you…” The clatter of a dropped cell phone behind him told Sam not to bother telling Cas not to pop in, because he already had. Seconds later Sam’s phone and the keys were on the floor while Sam caught the already-unconscious angel. He remembered how deceptively heavy Castiel was, and was able to brace for it, but getting him to a bed was going to be a challenge. Taking him upstairs was out of the question, so Sam got him over his shoulder and carried him to the bed in the library he’d been using. Before he laid the angel down, Sam pushed the trenchcoat off. His shirt fell open, and Sam tried not to stare at the handprint burned there.

Once Cas was settled, shoes off and a blanket drawn over him, Sam quickly folded the trenchcoat and set it on top of the shoes. He went back to get the phones and put the keys back in his jacket pocket. Cas’s phone went on top of his coat, and Sam flipped his own phone open just as it started to play “Ramble On”.

“Sam, Bobby got a call from Rufus,” Dean said as soon as the connection was made. “He’s got trouble and needs backup ASAP. We’re headed out. Get what you need, we’ll be at the house in ten.”

“Dean… I can’t go with you,” Sam said, looking at Castiel.

Naturally Dean argued. “Yes you can. What the hell, Sam? It’s Rufus. If this is about that thing with War…”

“No,” Sam broke in. “Look, man, there’s… it’s Cas.”

That shut Dean up. “You have a lead on Cas?”

Sam huffed, not quite laughing. “I have Cas.”

“What do you mean, you have Cas?” Dean said, his voice somewhere between disbelief, joy, and anger.

In other words, how Sam had felt at the ringtone. “I mean that there is a comatose angel in my bed. I don’t know how long he was conscious before he called me, but he was back out the second he got here. I just got him settled, was about to call you.”

“Huh.” Dean sounded like he didn’t know where to start. “Why’d he call you instead of me?”

“I didn’t exactly get a chance to ask,” Sam said. “I guess he figured I was more likely to be in the house instead of out in the yard? Or, you know, he didn’t exactly have faith in you. He probably didn’t feel like talking to Michael when he could barely stand, and decided he’d rather take a chance on getting Lucifer.”

“Yeah, he was smarter than you,” Dean teased. “Okay. Bobby and I will go back up Rufus, you take care of Cas. Call me when something changes.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam said. “Hey, Dean… be careful.”

“Of course,” Dean said fondly as he hung up. Sam put the phone aside, getting back to the Latin he’d been translating. The quiet was a distraction now, rather than a comfort, as Sam’s eyes kept going back to Castiel. The last time they had seen each other, Castiel had asked him to carve a banishing sigil onto his chest with a box cutter. Not exactly how Sam liked to say goodbye to people he cared about.

******a few days earlier*******

“What the hell are you going to do with that?” Sam asked as Castiel slid the box cutter open.

Castiel looked up at him. “It’s a nuclear option. There are five angels in there, and I’m not at full power. I can’t kill them all, but…” he looked over to Dean. “If I can catch them by surprise, I can banish them. Unfortunately, the only way to do that is to place the sigil somewhere they can’t see it until I’m ready to use it. They might notice something strange if I carried an open cabinet in there.”

Dean flushed and looked away. “Sorry, Cas.”

Castiel shook his head. “No, you aren’t.”

Sam caught on to Cas’s plan, and he took the box cutter. “I’ll do it. Just… hold still, okay? This is going to hurt, a lot.” Sam looked over to Dean, hoping his brother would get the hint and come give Cas something to hold on to, but Dean didn’t.  
When Sam started cutting the circle, free hand on Cas’s shoulder to hold him still, Dean cried out. “What the hell are you doing, Sam?”

“Banishing sigil,” Cas said. “I can hide it under my clothing until I need it.”

“Wait a minute,” Dean said. “Sam, stop. Won’t that banish you too, Cas?”

Castiel started to shrug. “Dammit, Cas, hold still!” Sam said as the box cutter slipped. “I can’t believe I’m doing this in the first place, don’t make it harder.”

“Give me that,” Dean said, holding out his hand. “I am not watching my little brother carve up my friend’s chest like a chunk of meat.”

“Then don’t,” Sam said. “Go… over there, or hold Cas still and close your eyes, or something. I’m not letting you do it, not after everything you and he have been through together.”

“So Cas has to go out with bad memories of both of us? Me failing, you carving him up so he can kill himself? Sammy…” Dean’s voice was filled with worry and love.

“And Sam’s last memory of me will be assisting me with suicide, and of you will be watching you deliver yourself unto Michael. Unlike me, he’ll have to live with them. And yet, I believe he would rather remember carving me himself than knowing you had to.” Sam smiled grimly as he carved the Enochian in the center of the circle. Cas looked down at it as Sam finished it up, nodding minutely.

“Dean, button him up?” Sam suggested. “So we don’t set it off early.” Sam’s hands were covered in Cas’s blood and Cas was already linked by blood, but this also allowed Dean the chick-flick farewell moment to his friend that he couldn’t roll his eyes out of.

Everything in place, Castiel offered each of them a handshake. “I would hug you, but I…”

“We know, man,” Sam said. “Go get ‘em, tiger,” Dean offered.


	2. The Chronicle of Jerome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel wakes up to Sam mocking poorly-written Latin. Castiel discovers ringtones.

Sam wanted to peel back the blanket and look, see if there was any trace of the carving left on Castiel. Cas probably wouldn’t mind, really. He’d watched them sleep often enough, no matter how many times Dean had protested that it was creepy. Sam kind of liked it, although he figured it was probably dull unless one of them had a nightmare.

Castiel’s solution to nightmares wasn’t as good as Dean’s, pre-Hell. Dean used to shove in beside Sam, curling protectively around him when they were both little, just offering whatever contact was needed to keep them both from falling out when they got older. Still, Sam could feel the warmth, the love of his brother driving off the ghosts or fears. Castiel simply placed two fingers to his forehead, the gesture he used for everything from healing a broken bone to throwing someone thirty years back in time. Nightmares fled, but they weren’t replaced with the warmth.

Of course, that was better than Dean’s solution to nightmares since Hell. Shut up, don’t do anything, just ride them out.

Sam heaved a sigh and took the book and his notepad over to a chair by Castiel. He started reading out loud, pausing every so often to make a sarcastic comment about terrible sentence structure or superstitious monks who mixed so much bad information with good that it must’ve really sucked to be a hunter in the Middle Ages. Sometimes, he even asked Castiel for an opinion or advice. Not like anyone was here to question his sanity in talking to a comatose angel.

 

The first sign Castiel had that consciousness was returning was listening to poorly-written Latin about angels. It didn’t make much sense, and the sense he could make of it was wrong. “Am I translating this right, Cas? Is this idiot really saying that there are regiments of angels whose sole purpose is to chronicle the deeds of every Christian? Because I gotta say, that sounds incredibly tedious. ‘And then Jerome ate bread and drank wine, and then Jerome emptied his bladder, and then Jerome scratched his nose…’”

Castiel tried to laugh, but nothing came out. He managed to open his eyes, and found Sam sitting in a chair by his bed, a large book open on his lap and a notepad on one side of the book. He tried sound again, managing to croak out a weak “Sam.”

The book clattered to the floor as Sam moved, leaving his chair to kneel on the floor beside Cas. “Hey,” he said, one hand going to Castiel’s face as if he were inspecting a human for symptoms of fever. Apparently whatever he felt was good enough for him, as Castiel found Sam’s arms around him to gently lift him to sit against the wall. “Here,” Sam said, handing him a bottle of water. “Man, you gotta stop passing out in my arms.”

Half the water was gone in one swallow. Strange how time spent away made his vessel require typical human needs. “I am sorry, Sam. I’ll try not to do it again.”

Sam grinned at him. “On the other hand, you passing out in my arms is a huge step up from you being dead.” His eyes flicked downward, and Castiel followed his gaze. “How’s your chest?”

Castiel shrugged, pulling his shirt open to look. “I see no remnant of your sigil,” he commented. “However, I appear to have branded myself when I set it off. It doesn’t hurt, at least not any more than anywhere else.”

“May I?” Sam asked, one hand hovering near the handprint and a look of curiosity in his eyes. Castiel nodded, and Sam touched the brand lightly. Cas gasped, eyes opening wide as the shock flowed through him. Sam jerked his hand back, giving Cas an apologetic look. “Sorry, I thought… you said it didn’t hurt… it never bothered Dean when I…”

“It’s all right, Sam. It was not painful. Simply more intense than anything I’ve ever felt.” Castiel raised his own hand toward the print, expecting it to react even more strongly to the hand that inflicted it, but it felt the same as touching any other part of his skin. He pulled the shirt back over it, trying to settle the fabric as though he were wearing the shirt normally. He couldn’t tell the feel of shirt against unmarked skin from shirt against his brand. “At least I should be able to go around dressed,” he said with a small smile.

“Oh, man, could you imagine the look on Dean’s face if you couldn’t?” Sam said, giving a hesitant smile of his own. Castiel looked away, and Sam put a hand on his arm. “Hey. Dean made it out. He almost didn’t, Zachariah had called Michael down and everything, when Dean changed his mind at the last second. Zachariah’s dead, and my only regret is that I was in too much pain from the hemorrhage to hold his arms the way I did Ruby.”

Castiel turned back to Sam, giving him the intense scrutiny that both Winchesters disliked but could never pull away from. “I am glad your faith was not misplaced,” Castiel said. “Where is Dean?”

“Shit, he’s going to be pissed he wasn’t here,” Sam said, pulling out his phone. “He and Bobby are bailing Rufus out of trouble. I couldn’t leave you to wake up alone.” He turned his attention to the phone, setting it to speaker. “Hey, Dean. Got a question for you. Did that handprint on your arm ever do anything weird when I touched it?”

“Okay, random,” Dean said, and what little remained of Castiel’s doubts were gone hearing Dean’s voice. “Not that I remember, why?”

“I now bear a similar mark,” Castiel said, and he could see the playful smirk on Sam’s face. “It reacted quite strongly to Sam’s touch.”

“Cas? Cas, you son of a bitch, you’re alive!” Castiel tried to remember the last time Dean had sounded happy about anything, let alone joyful. “Sammy, how long’s he been up?”

“And you are not Michael,” Castiel said with no inflection at all. Sometimes he did it on purpose. This was one of those times. “I awakened to the exciting chronicles of the life of Jerome approximately ten minutes ago.” Sam put a hand to his mouth to hold back the laughter.

“Who the hell is Jerome?” Dean asked.

“No one,” Sam said, voice still a little shaky with the suppressed mirth. “Cas is weak, but he’s improving quickly. Anything on Rufus yet?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said. “Squad of demons, there had to be six of them, but they’re gone now. We’re on our way back, but Rufus and Bobby are both too hurt to drive. If I can do it, we’ll be there in twelve hours, but I may need to pull off and get some sleep.”

Sam sighed in relief. “Call if you stop. Tell Bobby he has some seriously awful books. Tell Rufus I said hey. Tell ‘em both to get themselves healed, not sure you and me can handle three wounded when two of them are cranky old men and the third’s an angel.” He looked over at Cas briefly. “Speaking of Cas, very funny, that Aerosmith ringtone.”

“Hey, you messed with mine first,” Dean said completely unapologetically. “Take good care of Cas and don’t go giving him strong reactions while he’s trying to recover, ‘kay?”

“Whatever, dude,” Sam said, looking to Castiel. Cas shook his head, so Sam hung up.

Cas blinked innocently. “What is an Aerosmith?”

A huff and shaking head preceded Sam’s answer. “You and Dean have been close friends for over a year, and you don’t know Aerosmith. They’re a rock band, some of their stuff is actually really good. The ringtone, though…” Sam stood up and got Cas’s phone, looking at the contacts. It was a very short list, only five people, and two were already dead. He called his own number.

 _“Baaaby, you’re my angel, come and save me tonight, you’re my angel, come and make it all right,”_ the phone sang in the voice of Steven Tyler.

Castiel blinked. “Would it not make more sense for that to be the ringtone on my phone, so that I would know it is you and you need me to come help?”

Sam laughed. “I can set that up for you if you want, but, uh, the song itself isn’t about a real angel. It’s about a girl that the singer’s in love with. Dean’s messing with me.”

“Dean thinks I…” Castiel felt apprehensive prickles in his chest. “Set it, please. I dislike the sound the phone currently makes. I did not know I could change it.” Given his usual aptitude with cell phones, there was no way Sam wouldn’t buy it.

The huff of amusement told Castiel he was right, and Sam started pressing buttons on his phone. “Want me to set it for Dean, too?”

“It can be different for different callers?” Cas asked.

Sam shook his head. “I swear, you’re worse than Bobby. Yeah, each contact can get its own ringtone, and then I can change the general ringtone for you too.”

“You, Dean, and occasionally Bobby are the only people who ever call my phone. It would be nice to know who’s calling simply from the sound. But I am unfamiliar with other ringtones.” Cas watched Sam’s thumbs as he did something with the phone.

“Okay. Here’s what I’ve got for Bobby.” Sam pressed a button, and the phone played a rough voice. _“I got a shotgun rifle and a four-wheel drive and a country boy can survive, country folk can survive.”_ It was indeed very different, and appropriate, and Castiel nodded his approval. “Having trouble thinking of a good one for Dean,” Sam admitted. “Usually when I’m thinking about you, Dean, and ringtones, it’s to prank Dean.”

Castiel shrugged. “Even a prank is better than the irritating sound it makes now. I can ask Dean to change it to something better when he gets a chance.”

Sam appeared to think it over, and tapped something into the phone. “All right, it’s changed, and I changed your generic one just in case.” He handed Cas his phone, looking a touch embarrassed. “If Dean does call, just remember I picked it as a prank on him, not you.”

Castiel nodded and reached for the book that had fallen when Sam began caring for him. “If you believed I was asleep, why were you asking me about angels chronicling the life of Jerome?” he asked, looking through the book. His brow furrowed as he read a few paragraphs. “This is good.” Sam gave him a quizzical look, so Cas clarified. “I had thought your words made no sense because there was something wrong with my brain.”

“Yeah, between the bad Latin and the obviously wrong information… I don’t even know why Bobby has it.” Sam stood up, stretching. “If I talked to you, it made it easier to believe you were gonna wake up soon,” he added softly, so softly that Castiel nearly missed it. Sam blinked and shook his head to clear it. “Hey, I’m gonna go make myself some supper, if I made you something would you eat it? I know you don’t normally…”

“The less I have to maintain my vessel, the faster I can restore my grace,” Castiel said. “Food would be welcome.”


	3. Dark Side May Have Cookies, But We Have Burgers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam feeds Cas burgers and salad, and then makes him watch Star Wars. Awkward misunderstandings ensue.

Sam dug out some ground beef. Dean was the cook, he’d be able to put together just about anything, but Sam wasn’t incompetent. Exactly. He could cook burgers perfectly well. And he remembered how much Cas had liked them when he was under Famine’s influence.

He glanced into the other room, where Cas was still reading that ridiculous book. It was weird, normally Cas was a bit more reserved. He couldn’t imagine Cas asking about ringtones, at least, not asking him. Sam had expected that distance to get worse, not better, after carving Cas up, and whatever that thing with the brand was.

While the burgers cooked, Sam threw together some salad and grabbed some oranges that were left in the fruit stash. He could hear Dean’s mocking at the thought of him getting Cas hooked on salad, but nutritious food would probably be better for vessel maintenance anyway. Besides, even Sam couldn’t screw up salad.

Everything ready, Sam loaded the food onto two trays and brought them in. He caught the faint smile on Cas’s face when he saw the burgers. “I have a theory,” Cas announced as he took one of the trays from Sam. “I believe the author of this book ingested large amounts of hallucinogens, possibly with alcohol.”

“That was kind of what I was thinking,” Sam agreed. “Still, desperate times. I’m out of ideas, Cas, and I’m scared. Lucifer said I’d say yes within six months, and that was five months ago.”

“I have an idea,” Cas said. “Find Pestilence and Death. Claim their rings. Keep hunting demons. Keep Lucifer out of his true vessel. Weaken Lucifer’s power and use the rings to lock him away again. Then we’ll be back to seals, but they’ll need to find another righteous man in Hell, and all the angels know that this Apocalypse was brought about by them as much as by the demons.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Sam said with a quirk to his lips. “The rings can do that?”

“The rings combine to form the key to Lucifer’s cage,” Castiel said. “It’s old lore, before my time even. I don’t know how I know it, but I am certain that the lore is correct. The other thing I can think of is Gabriel, but he has already made it clear that he will not get involved.”

“Yeah, no offense, I know he’s your brother, but I really kinda hate that guy,” Sam said. “And it’s not a bad plan, really. It at least gives us something to do. Which means Jerome and his hallucinating author can go collect dust.” The rest of the time they ate, Sam and Cas exchanged excerpts from the Chronicle of Jerome, getting sillier as they went along.

 

Once Sam finished cleaning up from supper, he came back to look Cas over. “Are you tired?”

Cas shook his head. “I do not think I require sleep at the moment. But if you do, you know you do not need to keep me company. Your brother would not look kindly on you exhausting yourself on my account.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sam said. “Dean tends to be very forgiving when bad decisions are made in the interest of looking after family.” He went to get his laptop, setting it out where both he and Cas could see the screen. “I’m not tired, and I need a break from research, so I’m thinking movie night,” he explained as he loaded up Star Wars. “This is one of Dean’s favorites, and he references it a lot.”

“Dean is not forgiving at all when it’s you,” Cas countered. “And I am not family.”

Sam huffed. “Yeah, tell me about it,” he muttered under his breath. He lapsed into silence for a bit, watching the laptop. Castiel tried not to let it hurt him as he focused on the screen, reading the story it was telling. He knew he was not part of their family, that was not painful, but hearing Sam say he didn’t want him to be – that was. He let himself be lost in the story, not allowing his eyes to drift at all as the two strange metal creatures had adventures in a desert.

 

Sam had seen Star Wars enough that he could recite entire scenes from memory, but it was still a good movie. This, of course, let him brood over the way Dean forgave others so easily but held Sam’s mistakes over him forever. Okay, he had a right to hold Ruby over him, Sam had been so stupid then. He occasionally looked over to Cas, wanting to reassure him that he was family, but every time he looked Cas’s eyes were glued to the screen as intensely as Sam had ever seen him stare. When the movie finished, Castiel watched the credits with the same intensity, and Sam grinned as he got up to find a bottle of Jack and two glasses.

When the movie shut down, Cas sat there staring at the laptop. Sam looked at him. “Hey, you okay there?” He poured himself a shot. “Earth to Cas, you in there?” Castiel looked over to him, the ease and good humor from earlier gone. “You, uh, you want some?” he asked, holding up the bottle and extra glass.

“No,” Cas said, turning away. He reconsidered quickly, though. “Yes. Please.”

Sam poured him a glass, wondering about the hesitance. It took an entire liquor store to get an angel drunk. “So I guess Dean hasn’t given you the speech yet?”

“The one regarding the evils of alcohol?” Cas asked, downing the shot all in one. “There hasn’t been much opportunity.”

“No, not that one,” Sam said, refilling Cas’s glass. “Family doesn’t end in blood. You and Bobby are all Dean and I have. Maybe Adam, if he survived Michael’s wrath at Dean’s eleventh hour change of heart and wants anything to do with us. But you are definitely family, Cas. You’ve given your life for us twice, you’ve killed for us. I still can’t believe you chose me over Anna, but if that didn’t make you family…”

Cas turned to him, face unreadable. “Why do you not believe?”

Sam huffed. “Well, I mean, Anna was your boss for what, centuries? Millennia? You didn’t want to kill her when you were still Heaven’s loyal soldier and had orders, and after you rebelled, she was the only other person who could really understand what you’re going through. But even though she had a point – don’t lie to me, her plan could have at least stalled Lucifer long enough for you and Dean to get the rings and shove him back in the Cage. But you chose to protect the abomination. I’m still the boy with the demon blood, remember?”

“The boy… oh,” Castiel said, a look of surprise on his face. “Sam. I have changed since then, a great deal. For what it’s worth, I am sorry our first encounter did not go better. Did I ever tell you that you surprised me that day? I had hoped Dean would spare the town, but for you to do so on the grounds of the innocent lives that would be lost was a surprise.”

“Hey, look, the abomination isn’t a bloodthirsty monster,” Sam said. His voice took on a tone of resignation. “Look, Cas, I know how it is. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re family, no one ever said family had to like each other.” Sam reached for the laptop, looking through folders to find The Empire Strikes Back. That way he didn’t have to look at Cas anymore.


	4. First Date?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Cas clear up lingering doubts, and then create brand new ones. Also, Castiel doesn't understand Han/Leia.

Castiel considered flying away. He considered calling Dean. He considered taking a swing at Sam, as Dean had done often when Sam said something ridiculous. All were rejected in favor of staring blankly. He had no idea Sam felt as though he was unliked. “You _don’t_ know how it is,” he said. “When I was given this assignment, I was told that you were an unredeemable, bloodthirsty abomination. I had no reason to question my superiors, then. You changed my opinion very quickly, Sam. You made mistakes, which you acknowledge and are attempting to redeem yourself from. I made mistakes, too. Everything about Alastair was a mistake on my part. Allowing myself to be captured the first time I tried to rebel was a mistake. Letting you out of the panic room was a mistake.” He saw the surprise on Sam’s face. “It seems I am still making mistakes. Calling you an abomination was a mistake. Dealing with angels is simpler. Angels do not feel, so you cannot hurt an angel’s feelings. I meant only that the demon blood within you made it impossible for you to wield the stake, just as having rebelled against Heaven made it impossible for me. I don’t know how to convince you that I care for you. But I will try to do better to show it.”

“Uh.” Sam looked at Cas oddly, face turning somewhat pink. “Wow. I… I’ve seriously misjudged you. That explains a lot, really. I guess I’d built up more resentment than I thought, normally I know better than to dwell on something someone says when they’re drunk.” He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

Cas tried to think what to do now. He felt as though he should be doing something, but he had no idea what. Sam didn’t look expectant, though. Cas was just about to break down and ask for help when a strange sound came from his phone. _“You’re in the arms of the angel, may you find some comfort here.”_

The pinkness increased. “That’ll be Dean. Sorry, not intended to mess with you…” Sam stuttered out.

Castiel handed the phone to Sam. “Speaker.” He waited until Sam set the phone between them. “Hello, brother.”

Sam smiled, but Dean sounded confused. “Cas? What…”

“Michael. Did Dean put me on his no-harm list, then? Or are you calling simply to remind me of my failure?” Dean was the one who had taught him about fun and practical jokes. Sam was looking at Cas like he was out of his mind.

“Uh, Cas… this is Dean. I changed my mind about signing up as a prom dress, didn’t Sam tell you? Sam did check you for concussions and stuff, didn’t he?”

“My mind is as sound as ever,” Castiel assured Dean. “However, I felt as though I was entitled to a prank. I thought you would remember speaking with me earlier.”

“Since when do you pull any kind of joke?” Dean asked, and Sam burst into laughter. “That Sammy? Why is Sam awake?”

Sam caught his breath. “Because I’m not sleepy. Cas and I had dinner, watched a movie, and then had a perfectly nice conversation about some misunderstandings. I think we’d just about finished though?”

Dean snorted. “Dinner and a movie? Sorry for interrupting your date, sounds like you’d just gotten to the makeup sex. I was just calling to check on Cas, no big changes with Bobby or Rufus. You two have fun now.” The phone went dead, and Sam shook his head.

“Makeup sex?” Castiel said, looking at Sam in distress that he tried to hide. “Is that…”

“Dean is an idiot who turns everything into something sex-related given half a chance,” Sam said, once again a bright pink. “Dinner and a movie is a common activity for a date, and couples who talk out misunderstandings sometimes have sex afterwards to end the fight. Ignore him.” Sam pressed play and moved back, sitting on the floor beside the bed. Close enough that Castiel could reach out and touch him, if he wanted to. And Castiel realized that he wanted to.

 

This movie was different than the last. Sam wasn’t trying to start a serious conversation, Castiel kept looking at him instead of being so focused on the movie that it was like Sam wasn’t in the room. Sam wanted to kick Dean’s ass instead of beg him for forgiveness. But it felt like watching a movie together, as friends; before had been two comrades watching the same movie in the same room alone.

It was entirely Dean’s fault that Sam wanted to lean back, to get Cas to play with his hair. It was Dean’s fault that Sam wanted to get up on the bed and really sit with Cas, to have Cas leaning on him instead of the wall. It had to be Dean’s fault that Sam was even thinking about kissing Cas, wondering what it would be like.

“And then Sam Winchester started questioning if he’d lost his fucking mind,” Sam muttered under his breath.

Castiel leaned forward, putting a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Did you say something?” he asked quietly.

Sam jumped a little, and Cas started to pull his hand back. “Hey, you’re okay,” he said, catching the hand and putting it back. “Just commenting that Yoda makes me think of my dad, he used to write in cryptic, randomly organized sentences sometimes.” He let his own hand stay on top of Cas’s, feeling a little guilty about taking advantage of a perfectly innocent touch.

“Oh,” Cas said, and Sam could feel him adjusting how he was sitting. It brought him closer to Sam. Once again, Sam questioned if he was losing his mind, and he came to the conclusion that if he was, it was all Dean’s fault. He watched the movie, still holding Cas’s hand to his shoulder. Then Cas had a question. “If Leia is in a relationship with Luke, why is she kissing Han? She has shown no sign that she even likes Han.”

“It’s called a love triangle,” Sam explained, wondering why he’d had the bright idea of not waiting for Dean to do this. “Luke is the hero who rescued her from captivity, and a good person, but he left to pursue his Jedi training. Han is a ‘bad boy’, something that a lot of women find attractive. Leia didn’t at first but his charm is starting to get to her.”

Cas nodded. “I have noticed some similarities between Han and your brother. Is Dean also considered a ‘bad boy’?”

“He would beat me bloody if I said anything but yes,” Sam said through the laughter that bubbled up at the question. “So, between you and me, he plays up the stereotype – leather jacket, perfect hair, biker boots, covered in scars and often bruises, walking into a room like he owns it and if he wants your attention he’ll get it. The way he talks to people – outright rudeness to authority, jokes for every situation – that’s all part of it. Underneath, though, he’s a marshmallow. You know, of the three of us, he’s the one who embraced hunting for the reasons we tell ourselves we do it. Dad embraced hunting because of Mom, I embraced hunting because of Jess. Dean does it to save lives, and he loves it. That kinda makes him the best of us all.” Sam tipped his head back to look into Cas’s blue eyes. “Best kind of bad boy to fall in love with, even for an angel I would imagine.” Okay, maybe it wasn’t the most subtle way to ask if Cas was in love with Dean.

“Perhaps. Dean is a good man.” Castiel looked back to the movie, but Sam could feel a slight shaking in the hand on his shoulder. A few minutes later, Castiel said, “Good men are frequently underrated.”

Sam turned around to look at Cas again. “Yeah, they are. Although Dean’s not really doing himself any favors by hiding behind an image.”

“I referred to you.”

“Me?” Sam forgot all about the movie. “Cas, I’m not a good man. I started the fucking Apocalypse because I was too full of rage and pride to listen to anyone try to tell me what a fucking stupid idea it was to drink demon blood, including myself. It’s gonna take the rest of my life to earn redemption.”

“Yet you seek redemption instead of accepting your fate,” Castiel said. “Granted, allowing Lucifer to use you would be extremely unpleasant. But you… you fight, instead of taking the easy way out and allowing Lucifer to take responsibility.” Cas reached out and touched Sam’s face, very gently. “You believe Dean is a good man, despite the things he did in Hell. Why can you not forgive yourself?”

“Thirty years of unimaginable torture,” Sam said, leaning into Castiel’s hand. “I don’t know how long your stay in angel bootcamp was. Me, I just got played. Bit of a difference.”

“For what it’s worth, you have my forgiveness,” Cas said. Sam leaned forward, pressing his lips to Cas’s before he could think too hard about what he was doing.

 

At first, Castiel leaned into the kiss, sliding his hand from Sam’s face to tangle it in his hair. All too soon, though, his brain caught up with his body, and he pulled away.

“Cas?” Sam asked, though he drew back himself. “What’s wrong?”

Castiel shook his head, already wistful in a way he hadn’t expected. “You should… you should save that for Dean.”

“Oh,” Sam said softly. “So you two are together. I thought maybe… but you’re right, I shouldn’t…”

Confusion blended into the wistfulness. “I am not with Dean. I wouldn’t do that to you, any more than I would betray Dean by allowing this to continue.”

It was Sam’s turn to look confused, but he quickly figured out what Castiel meant. “Cas, it’s not like that. Dean’s my brother. I don’t know, maybe it’s different for angels, but among humans, brothers don’t…” Sam shook his head, keeping his eyes on Cas. “Is that the only reason you pulled away? Or did I misread something?”

Sometimes, Castiel wished he were a better liar. Then again, he didn’t see how Sam knowing the truth would change anything between them that hadn’t already been changed by the kiss. “No, your interpretation was correct,” he admitted. “But…”

Sam’s face lit up with a smile, and Castiel could have sworn the room got just a little brighter. “There we go, then. This is going to be an interesting conversation to spring on Dean tomorrow. So, uh…” Sam reached for the laptop. “I’m just gonna rewind it a little.”


	5. Don't Use Star Wars to Teach about Relationships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets the Grumpy Old Men home and is confronted by the most ridiculous false drama ever.

At the end of the movie, Cas pushed himself up off the bed and moved to the chair Sam had brought over. “You should sleep. Dean will need your help tomorrow. I will watch over you.”

Sam stretched and looked at the time. “Yeah. You’ll wake me up if you need anything?” Cas nodded. “You know, I’m used to sleeping through noise, I can set up the next movie for you. If you wanna see how the story ends.”

“I would like to see how Luke retrieves his friends, if you are sure you’ll be able to sleep,” Cas said. “If the Darth Vader and the Emperor are defeated.”

Sam couldn’t help the chuckle. “These are some of Dean’s favorite movies, I’ve lost count of how often I’ve fallen asleep to Star Wars.” He found the movie and started it before stripping down to his t-shirt and boxers to sleep in. Stretching out on the library bed, he was asleep in minutes.

 

_“In the arms of the angel…”_ Cas’s phone started singing. He answered it quickly so it wouldn’t wake Sam.

“Please tell me you got Sam to get some sleep,” Dean said. “We’ll be there in about ten minutes, we’re just pulling into Sioux Falls.”

“He went to sleep approximately five hours ago, I will awaken him. How are Rufus and Bobby?” Once again, Castiel felt the loss of his full abilities from Heaven; though it probably was easier this way than knowing he could heal his friends but wasn’t permitted.

“Oh, don’t get me started,” Dean said wearily. “Rufus finally passed out a couple hours ago, just in time for Bobby to wake up and start bitching about the blood all over his truck. As if a good chunk of it weren’t his. Bobby’s gonna be fine, Rufus needs some serious work. How’re you and Jerome?”

“I am weak, but recovering. Jerome continues to live a life of trivialities, I suspect.” Cas smiled slightly at the reminder of the joke he shared with Sam, although it reminded him of other things he had shared with Sam. “Also, I am sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Dean said, puzzled.

“Sam will explain when there is time.” Cryptic, perhaps, but it could wait. “Beware of Ewoks, I suspect they are some new kind of demon. I should wake Sam.” He hung up, looked over at Sam, and called the phone by Sam’s pillow, smiling as Sam’s phone asked him to come and save Sam tonight. Once Sam answered, Cas hung up. “Dean will be here in about ten minutes.”

Sam sat up, wiping sleep from his eyes. “I’m right here, you could’ve just shaken me or something instead of calling.”

“Touching a sleeping hunter is asking for a knife wound, and I am trying to avoid damaging my vessel,” Cas explained. “I was also curious as to whether you had changed your ringtone yet.”

Sam chuckled as he found his jeans and dug in his duffle for a reasonably clean shirt. “Wasn’t planning on it, I like Aerosmith, although if you tell Dean that he will be insufferable. And, well, it’s better than what I had before, and I don’t really have anything else in mind that I’d want to change it to.”

 

Dean was so glad to see Bobby’s house. He was even happier to see Sam and Cas out on the porch, because it meant that Cas was recovered enough to be out there, which meant Sam would be free to deal with Rufus, because god knew Dean was sick of his ass. He pulled the Impala to a stop and went to the back of the truck to get Bobby’s chair.

Sam came down the stairs, heading over to the truck. “Holy shit,” he said, looking inside. “Rufus knows the blood is supposed to be on the inside, right?”

“You wouldn’t think so, would you,” Bobby growled as he settled himself in his chair. “Idjit tried taking on four of the demons by himself, didn’t even have a backup gun on him.”

Dean rolled his eyes as he went to help Sam get Rufus out of the back seat. “He ‘had a plan’, Bobby, remember?” It was impossible to miss the rolling sarcasm. “Didn’t even thank us for saving his ass, even when the other two showed up.”

Sam chuckled. “At least you weren’t stuck here with research and a comatose angel. You’d’ve lost your mind.”

“Such a hardship for you, Sammy,” Dean mocked. “I know he’s not the best company ever, but at least Cas isn’t a whiner, and when you’re not spending all your time talking about the Apocalypse, he can actually be kinda fun.” They were at the porch now. “Oh, wait, this is you. You two nerds spent all your time with your heads in books, didn’t you.”

Cas overheard, and shook his head. “We spent very little time reading while both of us were awake.”

“You fail as a best friend, by the way,” Sam informed Dean as they got Rufus inside. “Where are we taking him?”

Bobby rolled up behind them. “Get ‘im upstairs, my old room. He knows where I keep the first aid stuff in there, so he can look after himself once he gets mobile. There better be a dent in the food, Sam, or I will beat your ass.”

“I ate,” Sam promised. “More than once. Fed Cas twice, even.” Okay, that was counting the water bottle as feeding Cas, but still.

Dean rolled his eyes. “So once a day, then. Why do I fail?”

“You let me show Cas Star Wars. He thinks you’re a lot like Han, by the way.”

Dean smirked. “Well, I do hang out with an overgrown, shaggy beast who I have to translate for half the time.” Sam had set himself up, so Dean was obligated to go through with the joke – especially since Rufus was in the way of Sam answering with just a bitch face.

“Well, at least you aren’t trying to get me to put on a metal bikini,” Sam said with a chuckle. “And you know Chewie’s awesome.” They got Rufus to the bed, and worked on cleaning and stitching him up. As Dean had said, he was pretty badly slashed and bruised, but from their long experience in treating wounded, there was obviously no lasting damage. He just needed to sleep off the exhaustion and blood loss.

Once Rufus was settled, Sam and Dean retreated out of the room. Dean fixed Sam with a long stare, long enough that Sam started to look at him weird. “So, Cas apologized to me and said you’d explain why.”

“Oh, for the love of…” Sam went to the stairs and leaned over the rail. “Castiel, get up here.” Dean raised an eyebrow. “If he didn’t believe me last night, he’s not going to believe me just because I said I talked to you. And I’m pretty sure you won’t kill me in front of him.”

“Whatever,” Dean said, as Sam motioned them into a room where he could close the door.

Once inside, though, Sam seemed to be in no hurry to explain anything. Dean went and sat on one of the beds, watching Sam think as he sat on the other bed, occasionally looking to Cas to see if maybe the angel would take pity on his brother and just say whatever it was that needed to be said. Cas didn’t seem to feel like it, though, as he stared at a spot on the wall. Dean started humming “Enter Sandman”, which seemed to snap Sam out of his thoughts. “Okay. Um. I kissed Cas last night.”

That was not anywhere near what Dean had been expecting. “Say what?”

“We were watching Empire, and he asked me why Leia was kissing Han, and it kinda turned into a very different conversation.” Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, not quite meeting Dean’s eyes.

“So you kissed him.” Dean didn’t want to know exactly how it had gotten there. “And Cas is apologizing for that because…”

Sam shook his head, ready to answer, but Cas cut him off. “Because I let him. Because I led him to believe I wanted him to. Because I kissed back.”

Well, that cleared things up spectacularly. “So, the problem here is… what, exactly?”

Sam did catch his eyes this time, a look caught between amusement and embarrassment with just a bit of fear in them. “Okay, I realize that letting him watch Return of the Jedi was probably not the way to clear things up. But Cas seems to think that if I’m going to kiss anyone, it should be you.”

“What the actual fuck.” Dean stared at Cas. “Uh… brothers?”

He didn’t miss Sam’s quick sigh of relief. “That’s what I tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t believe me. So, um… are you gonna be okay with this? Because I want to see where it goes.”

Dean stared at Sam, his very best what-the-fuck-just-happened look on his face. “When did you turn into some old-fashioned chick who needs Daddy’s blessing?”

Sam shot him a bitch face. “I know you never cared, but it’s like dating your best friend’s little brother. Not worth it if it’s going to make everything awkward for everyone.”

“Only think awkward here is that Cas thought we were…” Dean cut himself off. “Just warn me when you’re gonna get schmoopy so I can clear out.” He stood up to do just that, then turned back, a wicked smirk of glee on his face. “Cas?”

Cas turned away from where he’d been staring at Sam. “Yes, Dean.”

“If Sammy’s gonna be a girl and ask for permission, I totally get to do this.” He pointed a finger at Cas. “I like you, Cas. You’re a good guy. But if you hurt my little brother, remember I have an angel blade now and I am not afraid to use it.” He didn’t give Cas a chance to react before going over to Sam. “Sam, I like you, and I know you’ll treat Cas right. He may not be my blood, but he is family. And if you hurt my family, remember that I have a shotgun and I will end you.”

“Oh my god, Dean, you are such a weirdo,” Sam said, trying not to laugh as he shoved Dean toward the door. “Go away.”


	6. Bacon vs. Makeouts: Which Do You Choose?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don't exactly get steamy or anything. But they're definitely heading that direction. More may be added later?

Castiel watched Dean go, only turning back to Sam when the door closed. Sam gave him a soft smile. “Good enough? Because I’m really not sure what…” Two steps were all it took to close the distance, and Castiel reached a hand up to tangle in Sam’s hair. Unlike the night before, there was nothing hesitant or unsure about it when Sam bent his face to Cas, lips coming together as Sam’s hands found Cas’s waist.

 

Downstairs, Dean went to find Bobby cooking lunch. “Got Rufus cleaned up, should be okay as long as he doesn’t get stupid or stubborn.”

Bobby snorted. “He’s a hunter. He’s already both of those. Sam take good enough care of Cas for you?”

“Uh, yeah, I think Sam’s got a pretty good handle on Cas,” Dean said with a giant smirk. “Otherwise I’ll have to ask where the hell we went wrong with him.” He looked over his shoulder, glad he couldn’t hear anything. “They may not be back down for a while. And I’m not going in there for anything short of Lucifer on the doorstep.”

“Meaning…” Bobby stopped and Dean chuckled as understanding dawned on the older man’s face. “Huh. Remind me to dump a bottle of whiskey on Ellen’s grave, I lost that bet.”

“Ellen bet that Cas and Sam were gonna…” Dean trailed off, not wanting the mental images.

Bobby shook his head. “I bet that you and Cas would. Oh, shut up, you’re the one he hauled outta Hell.” Dean had to admit that Bobby had a point, but still, no.

 

Sam pushed the shirt from Cas’s shoulders, pulling back to really look at the angel. Cas let him for a little while, then reached for Sam’s hand and brushed the fingers against his brand. It was just as intense as before, but he was prepared for it this time. Sam put his fingers on it, pressing down, and Cas’s lungs seemed to forget how to breathe.

Cas pulled his hand free of Sam’s hair. “Don’t listen to Dean. I like your hair,” he whispered. Sam laughed softly while Cas slid his hands under Sam’s T-shirt, glad that for once Sam had chosen to go with only one outer layer. Sam pulled his hand back, just long enough to get the shirts out of the way, and then pulled Castiel in close.

Cas jerked back. He didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t help it. His chest felt like it was on fire, like it would explode if he held the contact any longer. “Too much?” Sam asked, putting his hands back at Cas’s hips while he came back to himself.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said as he nodded and looked away. “I feel certain I can acclimate, but…”

Sam reached up, pulling Cas’s face back to where Sam could look him in the eyes. “It’s okay, Cas. I wasn’t exactly planning on rushing this anyway, I don’t mind taking things slow.” He moved one hand up, resting it lightly on the handprint. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, pulling Sam’s head down again. Sam’s hand kept the rest of him far enough away as they otherwise got close.

All too soon, Castiel pulled away again. “Do you smell bacon?”

Sam huffed a laugh, reaching for his shirt. “Yeah, and I’m hungry. Here.” He tossed Cas the overshirt he’d been wearing. “I think your shirt’s dead.”

“My shirt was never alive,” Castiel pointed out.

“You know what I mean,” Sam said with a grin. “It’s kind of broken. I’ll take you shopping soon, but this’ll work for now.”

 

Dean turned when Sam and Cas came into the kitchen, a little surprised. “Wow, Sammy. I mean, I knew it had been a while, but… ten minutes?”

“Dean!” Sam punched his brother’s arm. “Bobby’s right there.”

“Bobby’s not an idjit, and your brother sucks at subtle,” Bobby said, setting out plates of bacon, ham, and other sandwich fixings. “’Sides, that’s your shirt he’s wearin’.

“My shirt can no longer be buttoned properly, unless we return to Van Nuys and search for the buttons,” Castiel explained. “Sam was kind enough to lend me one of his.”

Sam shook his head. “Hey, I’m not Dean; catch me early enough and I will totally postpone makeouts for bacon. Got enough there for us, too, or should we get our own?”

“Depends,” Bobby said. “Now I know we raised you right, boy, but I’m not so sure about Cas’s early teachers. You’re both old enough that no one in this house will care what you do, as long as you keep the really gooshy parts where we don’t hafta watch. And clean up after yourselves. And we don’t find Sam crying shut up in the panic room or Cas crying in Canada because the other one got stupid.”

“I think we can agree to that,” Sam said, wrapping an arm around Cas’s shoulders.

Cas nodded. “I may require guidance on what ‘really gooshy parts’ are, but I will agree.”

“Good enough,” Bobby said, grabbing two more plates out of a cabinet.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this work came about as I watched "Point of No Return" for the, um, way too manyth time. And I got wondering... who carved the banishing sigil on Cas? I know that the Destiel fangirls will likely support Dean, but with Dean's history with torture, I *hate* the thought of him carving up his best friend. Cas could have done it himself, but Sam would actually be able to see what he's doing, and isn't inflicting pain and blood loss on himself while trying to keep his hand steady enough to cut.
> 
> Then I wondered: when Cas woke up from being braindead, why did he call Dean? When he blew himself away, he truly believed that Dean was going to say yes to Michael. Now, I can see the logic for him not calling Sam and risking getting Lucifer on the line - with Dean gone and Cas apparently dead, just how long would Sam have held out? But why wouldn't he call Bobby, at least to find out which of the boys is still 100% pure Winchester? (Obviously for the purposes of this fic, since it is Sastiel, I ruled that Castiel would have enough faith in Sam to hold out a few days at least.)
> 
> Hope you enjoy the fic! I enjoy feedback, so please comment!


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